


To Whom it May Concern

by fincherly



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Death Implied, Gen, I dont have any context bc this was just a spur of the moment fanfic, almost bonding? Maybe, but y es, luke is mentioned. Not in it, very sad des
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12753375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fincherly/pseuds/fincherly
Summary: Hershel visits Desmond after his execution was scheduled.





	To Whom it May Concern

“I’m not afraid, if you must know.” Desmond Sycamore sighed, his eyes on the bleak, cold metal of the prison bars. “I’ve regarded death as a mere escape for a long, long time.”

Hershel’s fists tightened on his knees, unsure of what he was feeling. “There – there must be something I can do. I’m not going to let you die alone.”

It had been two weeks for Desmond in that dreary cell, Raymond’s death having extinguished the fire in his eyes. Hershel wanted to help him, wanted to save him; he knew Desmond was a kind person driven to do terrible things, and he was sure he could be brought back to the man he once was, but it seemed that fate was intent on ending Desmond’s life before he had another chance. Hershel knew he couldn’t stop his brother’s execution.

Desmond turned to Hershel, fixing his tired eyes on the other’s hands. “This is best. We both know that.” Hershel grit his teeth.

“You can still be good, I know you can,” Hershel urged, leaning forward. “If they’d allow you another chance –“

“I’ve had my chances, Layton,” his brother stated, his tone devoid of any passion or anger. “I threw them all away in favor of furthering my own fruitless endeavors.” A heavy sigh preceded silence, a moment of thought before Desmond spoke again. “To best a civilization long dead and an organization hellbent on finding a glorified doomsday device. Why?” He raised his head to lean it against the wall behind him, dull, red eyes fixed on nothing. “What would that do? What would that fix? All I did, I did to keep the blame off of me. I focused my anger and grief onto people who will never care.”

Hershel didn’t know what to say; he supposed he shouldn’t say much of anything. At this point, even if an opportunity for salvation would be offered to his brother, it would be solemnly rejected in favor of a retribution he greeted like one greets the night after a long day. Hershel knew that in his heart. “I… I regarded you as my enemy for much of the time I knew you.” Fists tightening on his knees, Hershel shook his head. “But for a time, in the midst of the chaos, you were my friend.” Desmond didn’t respond, his expression never wavering, his eyes unseeing. “You stayed with us, you let us in, even for that time.” Red eyes closed. Hershel paused. “You saved Luke’s life,” he sighed. “He wanted to thank you; to some extent he never forgave himself.”

Desmond let a blithe smile grace his face, fondness unguarded now. “…Tell him goodbye for me, will you?” He curled his knees to his chest. “Tell him I’m glad to have saved him.” Hershel brought a hand to his mouth, biting his lip, fighting tears. He chose to nod instead.

They sat in silence for a long time, occasional sounds of metal clanging and thumps keeping their minds occupied. Hershel was thinking, but he didn’t know what about. He wanted to believe he was putting together a way to get Desmond out of this, but his mind was whirring with white noise. He felt useless, and to an extent he was. He felt like he needed to do something, but what could he do? Nothing can change the impending punishment awaiting Desmond. He didn’t want to be helped. Hershel swallowed, and with a voice thick with unshed tears, asked, “what do you want me to do?”

Desmond didn’t answer for a while, his eyes sad, tired, watching a moth flutter across his cell, dancing across the dim light of the single flickering bulb in the ceiling. Hershel wondered if he had heard him. But Desmond answered after a great pause.

“Stay,” Desmond murmured. “Stay here, until my time is up.”

Hershel’s heart broke, and he raised his hands to cover his face when his tears finally fell. He was silent while he cried, feeling them slip down his cheeks in grief for a life not yet lost. He knew Desmond was looking at him, but with what emotion – if any – he couldn’t guess. Guilt, for causing his little brother’s tears? Anger, for someone letting their emotions control them, even now?

When he did open his eyes, Desmond had a gentle smile on his face, his own red eyes free of tears but full of fondness and gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
